I checked in at the counter and passed through all the security checks in order to get to the assigned gate. There is nothing special to pin point about it... I did all those actions (ruthlessly tattooed to my cerebral cortex by authorities using revolutionary method of overpowering countless repetition) with automatic efficiency. In theory, I am capable of removing my jacket, belt, any accessories, mobile, lap-top and other metal objects in my sleep... that did not come out right... oh well...
My first destination was Moscow, where I would have to wait five hours for the connecting flight to Shanghai. I would like to count it as my first time in Russia but I am afraid that staying in neutral Duty Free zone doesn’t count as a meaningful visit. Anyhow, as I waited for the boarding to start, I noticed that majority of passengers flying to Moscow were already Chinese. I have to admit... for the first time in my life I started to feel as a minority. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a Chinese girl sitting next to me write a text message on her Iphone in Chinese. It was fascinating. She either wrote the word down phonetically in our alphabet (which would automatically transformed into particular sign) or she would draw the sign while the phone would simultaneously narrow down possible choices allowing her to add the one she wanted to the message with one click.
Curiosity started to spread through my veins like epidemics. Suddenly, those unimportant twenty hours ahead of me seemed to acquire scary magic of eternity and unbearable gravity of volcanic rocks. I hid my face behind the book and tried to block out that nagging feeling of being stuck in a waiting room. I spent the whole flight lost in thought. I tried to continue reading but I could hardly concentrate, especially since the book was in French (I would like to keep in my head as long as possible all I learned in France... even though it means endless suffering when I cannot advance in a captivating story as fast as I would like to... we all have to make sacrifices)... my brain was plotting curious... time to time almost lunatic scenarios again, although anything was better than facing the impenetrable barrier of time which happens to appear, quite inconveniently, exactly when we wish for time to pass like sand pours through fingers.
My short stay at Russian airport turned to a big smudge almost immediately after I left the place... Fatigue initiated its attack on my defenceless body since I was arrogant enough to omit my sleeping time to silly four hours before the departure. I remember going through security check again and refusing to go to terminal F earlier then really necessary sensing that for some reason or other air-conditioning was an abstract term for that particular part of the airport... I remember drinking one of the worst coffees I have ever had the ‘pleasure’ to pay for... I remember very amusing evil chit-chat with Katarina... rather innocent phone call with my mom... an innocent glance game with handsome guy at the passport check... and I remember wishing very dearly for this journey to be over.
By the time I got on the board of SU 572 to Shanghai, I was too exhausted to pay any special attention to my environment... especially when I knew I will not be able to sleep almost at all. In my mind all airplanes were like evil machines designed to keep me awake at all cost. Usually that would not be an issue, I like to use the ‘space time’ to read and study. You would be surprised how much being stuck in a tight seat for several hours like a sardine in a can (now specifically addressing one anonymous airline called Ryanair) makes you want to feel like a decent human being full of potential once again... so I dedicate my time to intellectual growth and reflection (or as some other people call it- staring into space). Long flights... those are entirely different matter. I like to sleep. I like it very, very much and anything or anyone keeping me away from nice and cosy AND attached-to-earth bed is getting on my Black list. Thus, I was nostalgically longing for the times when flying was new and exciting...
When I finally stopped feeling sorry for myself and took a quick look around me, I found myself surrounded by Chinese (not in a bad sense, it was only an observation... very obvious one since we were sailing through the darkening sky to Shanghai)... This is the first time I noticed the curious glances. Time to time I would catch someone observing me. I was warned about it in the brochure the agency sent me and was told not to take it negatively; it was matter of curiosity... Although, the situation made me feel a bit uneasy, I do not like to be observed. Naturally, I was not the only stranger on the board... there was a black girl (she was very pretty) sitting next to me who ‘enjoyed’ even more attention. Though, I must admit I sensed nothing but sincere interest in those looks.
The night was stretching seconds to minutes and minutes to hours. I read for quite a while but when my eyes rebelled against my tyranny and refused to cooperate I shut the book, lowered my seat and through a blanket over myself. I closed my eyes and let my mind flow listening to quiet conversations mingled with distant echo of someone’s Ipod. My breathing slowed... reality began to blend with dreams... I breathed deeper and deeper... when BAM!!! The girl next to me gently brushed her elbow against mine while changing position... I was up!
Now you see what I mean about my sleeping-on-the-board issues?
This scenario repeated itself in annoyingly regular intervals throughout the night. Closer the little airplane on the screen got to the little black dot marked Shanghai, more and more restlessness grew inside me. It wasn’t anxiety or fear but rather the kind of feeling you get before opening a Christmas present. I almost laughed out loud with joy when the pilot announced we will be landing in less than 40 minutes. The weariness was gone in seconds.
When I started to sort out my belongings, the girl next to me glanced at my book, then at me:
‘Tu parles français?’ she asked curiously.
‘Mais, oui... Je vois que toi aussi… mais beaucoup plus mieux que moi.’ I smiled, ‘ Tu viens d’où?’
‘Je viens de Paris…’
The pretty black girl who sat next to me all the way from Moscow was Iman (if I remember it right). She grew up in Paris but had origins in one of the Africa’s states name of which I cannot remember. This was her second journey to Shanghai as she spent there one summer as an intern some time ago. Now, she was returning for few days to celebrate her friend’s wedding. I found her quite interesting, plus she gave me some good tips as on what definitely not to miss while I am here. Despite the fact she distracted me a little bit from my inpatient inner monologues, it was the longest landing in my air-services-related history (this time I mean in literally... sadly this was not one of my exaggerated phantasmagorias). After landing we were driving up and down the runways for at least 20 minutes... the universe was pulling my leg but if universe had a big fat ass I would kick it so badly, it would think twice before doing this to me again! (Clearly, I was emotionally distressed ;) )
When we finally got off the plane, I was nicely directed to walk down the longest terminal ever built... Thank God that was the last record breaking event of the journey... I passed the visa control, picked up my luggage, said Iman goodbye and walked towards the exit with nice tickle of excitement in my stomach.
I was in Shanghai!
First image I saw was people... a lot of people standing next to each other, all of them searching for someone on the other side... my side. Throwing a fleeting glance on the faces assured me that despite the photo in my pocket the best thing to do would be follow and read one after another white papers of which one should bear my name. I walked, step by step, making sure I did not miss anything when... I saw it. Written in long slick letters:
BARBORA JASSOVA
I stopped and looked up. He returned my glance with a question on his face. I nodded in approval. We smiled at each other and he beckoned me to follow him.
That’s how I met Tony.
